The head is quite an important thing. Through it, you see, hear, taste, and smell. It contains your defining characteristics, your brain, everything. SO the French were nothing short of genius when they invented the guillotine.

Before them, it was so hard to remove a person's head, and take everything from them. But now, I'm going to use to guillotine. I'll take everything away from you. Your sight, your hearing, your senses of smell and taste, your facial features, even your mind.

Publicly.

You quake as your hands are tied, and you are tossed on a board, and slid below the blade of the guillotine. Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at your death, hanging above you, held away by only a thin rope. The basket below your head is bloodstained, and the whole place reeks of death.

The crowd is jeering loudly, screaming for the executioner to let to rope free, to remove your head. I almost want to join in with them. The fear in your eyes is unable to be matched at this stage. You know death is coming, and you know there's nothing that you can do to stop it.

Then, the executioner lets go of the rope.

The great, silvery blade comes crashing down silently, sharp edge dripping ruby. It lops off your head with a dull thunk. Your head lays in the basket. I puck it up by the hair, looking into your eyes. The pan there is eclipsed only by the hatred in your expression, directed at me. Then, the lack of blood and oxygen catches up with you, and you're dead.